Chapter 1 Lexi #2
‘That’s already too long.’ In any given week, I might be on a client’s jet, flying all over the country for weekend gigs or high-profile daily events.
None of my jobs exceed a few weeks, which is the biggest perk of being in private security.
The quick pace and contract environment allow me to keep my anonymity and never form any real connections – which suits me just fine, thank you very much.
He edges the folder toward me. ‘Peek again.’
An over-the-top, nearly squeaky, irritated sigh leaves my mouth as I pick up the file. I’ve not busted my ass for twelve years at this firm, destroyed my marriage with my now ex-wife and trained every day since I was ten to be a nanny for some dickhead actor.
‘I’m not doing it,’ I say. ‘But give me the details and I’ll think of a good recommendation.’
I cross my legs over my tactical cargo pants, and tug on my white T-shirt – the wardrobe Marcus hates.
Marcus has muscles for days, cheekbones that would make a runway model jealous, and reminds me a bit of a bald, slightly older Idris Elba.
He’s also old school, and besides workout clothes, I’ve only seen him out of a shirt and tie exactly three times: once when he married his long-time love, Ethan; once when I stopped by their home after a grueling job; and once when he visited me in the hospital after The Incident.
In the beginning, Marcus tried hard to convince me to wear a business suit, to maintain the professional appearances of his agents.
But I vehemently refused. Being agile in my clothes is far more important than adhering to a ridiculous, archaic dress code.
I can’t run, shoot or do proper hand-to-hand combat in business clothes.
And don’t get me started on the lack of pockets.
In a suit, where the hell would I stuff my firearm, flashlight and emergency glucose tabs?
‘All right.’ Marcus slips on his bifocals and turns his attention to his laptop.
‘Here’s the information we’ve gathered. Justin has received several disturbing messages, going far beyond trolls invading his social media space.
’ He hands me a second file. ‘The letters and packages arrived at both his agent’s office and the studio, and his neighborhood gate security staff intercepted another.
The contents have been harmless, just odd stuffed animals and toys, but the velocity of the violent images is increasing. ’
I flip through the letters, photos of a creepy, bloodied stuffed teddy bear, and photoshopped images of Justin’s face slashed. Strange stuff, definitely. But in this line of business, I’ve seen worse. ‘Why don’t they take this to the police? Or the feds?’
‘The studio wants to keep this tight-lipped. They don’t want undue media pressure messing with potential box office. If they get law enforcement involved, especially the feds, the public will seize on that headline.’
I call bullshit. ‘I thought all press is good press.’ I slide the file back on the desk. ‘Whatever project he’s working on, wouldn’t this just give him more publicity?’
‘Normally, yes.’ He tugs off his bifocals.
‘But in today’s political climate, they’re not taking any chances.
The studio had to delay production already because of a casting shift.
Something like this could stop production completely, and they don’t want to lose out on their investment unless it’s a serious threat. ’
Typical. Heaven forbid the studio slows production for the safety of the cast or crew.
It’s different when I’m protecting politicians or CEOs.
We can’t possibly cancel every appearance because of threats, or we’d never go anywhere.
But if the studio is seriously concerned, they could.
Which means, yet again, they don’t need me.
I clasp my hands around the nape of my neck and tap my fingers to the back of my skull. ‘I can think of twenty other people you can assign to this. You don’t need me.’
Marcus runs his hand down his close-trimmed black beard. ‘We do need you. Mr Greenwood’s team wants someone who’s a chameleon.’
‘Why is he requesting low-profile security?’ In our industry, sometimes being a female bodyguard has advantages.
I’m often hired for discreet situations when the client doesn’t want to draw extra attention – the opposite of someone like Justin Greenwood, who seems to crave it.
‘This is the same guy who did a backflip on the red carpet for his last premiere. Pretty sure this dude is the last one to shy away from the spotlight.’
Marcus rolls a pen between his palms. ‘According to his team, he likes to stay local, buy his own groceries, things like that.’
Really?
‘Justin likes to fly under the radar when possible and not draw a lot of attention. So they’ve asked for a certain … someone.’ Marcus clears his throat. ‘And you fit the bill.’
He just cleared his damn throat. Former Marine, six foot two, solid block of muscles even as he’s pushing mid-fifties, Marcus Bishop, is not the type of man who clears his throat. Ever. Spidey-tingles fly through me.
‘How, exactly, do I “fit the bill”?’
A moment passes that feels way too long. ‘Don’t make me say this.’
I cross my arms. ‘You’re gonna have to ’cause I don’t get it.’
The silence builds and Marcus stiffens. ‘Because you’re an attractive woman, which creates less of a scene than surrounding yourself with huge, burly men.’
Oh, for Christ’s sake.
As a kid, I spent my entire adolescence feeling awkward and unattractive.
I was taller, larger and more muscular than anyone else in my grade, including the boys.
My dad used to grab my arms and call me ‘Hercules’, egging me on to arm wrestle my four brothers.
As if being adopted wasn’t enough to make me feel different, none of us looked anything alike.
My straight, thick, jet-black hair, dark eyes and large body frame stood out in family photos next to my pale, skinny, blond and blue-eyed siblings.
‘So, I’m getting this job because of my gender and looks?
Even more of a reason to turn it down,’ I say, no longer attempting to hide any disdain.
After everything that happened with my ex-wife, Assignment Day is one of the few things I look forward to.
On Assignment Day, there’s always a chance for a new exciting adventure.
One that helps me forget my past, forget The Incident, helps me feel alive. And now, it’s being ruined.
‘You know I don’t do well with these kinds of guys,’ I say.
‘Remember when you assigned me to that idiot rock star, Titus McFeary? We don’t want a disaster like that again.
Justin’s not gonna like me, and I’m not gonna be nice to him just because he’s a client.
Besides, I still don’t see how this must be me. ’
Marcus stands and pours himself a glass of lemon-infused water from the crystal pitcher on the table behind him.
‘The paparazzi follow him. Not as much as other celebrities, but they do. Contrary to what you think, his image is that he’s “approachable” and doesn’t have bodyguards so his fans can access him.
’ He pauses to sip. ‘With you around, we can play it off that you’re a publicist, or lawyer, or girlfriend—’
‘Girlfriend?’ My head snaps up so fast I’m going to need a trip to the chiropractor. ‘No chance.’
Marcus throws up his hands, the water nearly spilling. ‘Okay, fine. Not a girlfriend. But part of his staff. I wouldn’t assign this to you if I didn’t think you were the best fit.’
I exhale a very deep, very exaggerated, very annoyed breath. ‘Do I have a choice in the matter?’
He grins. ‘Of course. Always. This or find a different job.’
Dammit. Marcus will never force me into something I’m uncomfortable with, but after twelve years, I’m fiercely loyal, and he knows that. I crack my knuckles and think. ‘How long did you say I had to do this?’
‘Three months. Six, max,’ he says, lowering himself onto the chair. ‘If the stalker isn’t found after six months, then you can choose your next assignment.’
‘Jesus, that’s a long time.’ I haven’t even had a post-divorce relationship last that long. ‘And what’s my key role? Who else is part of the security detail? Give me all the information, and then I’ll decide if I’m quitting and taking the standing offer in Amsterdam from your competitor.’
Marcus chuckles, because he knows I’ll never actually leave him, and gives me the full download.
My primary role will be to accompany Justin on typical outings, ranging from work, doctor appointments, social events and press junkets.
He’s in the beginning stages of a new action movie, meaning he’ll have months of table reads and rehearsals before filming starts.
My shift will be from noon to midnight, and the night bodyguard, Jack, will stay with Justin for the overnights.
So … babysitting. Unbelievable. ‘Does Justin know about the threats?’
‘They’re mostly keeping it from him. They want him to be safe but not know the seriousness of the stalking.’ He hands me another folder. ‘Here are the details for your meeting on Friday.’
From here until the day I die, no one better ever question my loyalty to Marcus. I cannot believe I’m even considering this. I tuck the file under my arm and move to the door. ‘Anything else?’
‘Yes,’ Marcus says with a playful grin. ‘Can you please wear a blazer?’
I wrinkle my nose and try and shoot him the most menacing glare I can muster, but a quick chuckle escapes. ‘3:30 p.m. on the mats, today. Since you’re the only person I can take down without being arrested, prepare for some serious pain.’
Marcus laughs as I close the door. In the hall, I press the folder against my chest.
What the hell did I just agree to?